(no subject)

[i-hate-crawly.livejournal.com]

Date: Febuary 1st, 2000
Setting: An empty room somewhere on the second floor.
Status: Private (Hastur & Ligur), though other characters could walk in on them if they want to.
Summary: Hastur and Ligur discuss their infernal plans



Ligur opened the dilapidated looking door and walked into the empty room. It was small, extremely dusty and the absence of any furniture or floor coverings gave it, in Ligur's mind at least, a pleasantly dilapidate air. The first time he'd stumbled across the place had been just after the Halloween party, when he'd been looking for somewhere to have a skulk in private, and it had struck him as an ideal spot to hold a clandestine plotting an schemeing session. At the time this had upset him somewhat as it only served to highlight the fact that he had nobody to plot and scheme with. Hastur's return however had rectified this situation. Both Dukes had of course been very busy of late with their respective projects, but Ligur felt that the time had come for them to pool their resources once more.

With a complex - and slightly obscene - looking hand gesture Ligur materialised a blood and bile splattered sofa (with a charming floral print), sat down and waited for Hastur to arrive.

Comments

[born-to-lurk.livejournal.com]

Hastur gave a charming sneer, sharing in Ligur's fantasies. The rack, boiling in oil, and the strappado would be mere child's play to what he had in mind for the demon. "Crawly will get what's coming to him. We'll see to that. Let the little bastard get comfortable. His luck will run out soon enough."

He let out a small hiss of a laugh, thin lips pulling back to reveal fangs. "Sounds like the good ol' days. The unbridled chaos of war. People swearing allegiance to Our Lord Satan left and right. What we need now is another good steady plague to get things going. Nothing sets off desperation and sinning like a good plague."

[i-hate-crawly.livejournal.com]

Ligur's eyes lit up. "Can't beat a plague. Always thought that it's a shame that ol' Pestilence retired. Helped us snag a fair few souls in his time. Can't say I think much of the new boy. I mean alright, Pollution's caused a fair few disasters, but can you say that they've done that much to increase sinning. Fair enough, I'll give him the desperation bit, but there wasn't a whole bunch of people up for selling their souls after that Chenobyl thingie was there? An' it sometimes seems like ecological disasters bring out the generosity in people."

He materialised a rather foul looking cigarette the end of which instantly combusted. He then proceeded to take a drag, before breathing forth a a stream of thick, putrid smelling smoke.

"Course, I 'ave seen old Pestilence hanging about the Manor. D'you reckon that he'd cook something up for us if we asked him?"